The Last Night of The World
by Dirty Liza
Summary: Beautiful wiccan Piper is orphaned at 17 during an epic battle of human vs. Magicks. With every prophesy saying the Magicks are doomed, is Piper's faith and her trust in the broken fighters she meets along the way enough for her to survive Witch Hunt II?
1. There Was A Time

**The Last Night Of The World**

**DISCLAIMER: **I wish I own these characters but...pouts...I'm just borrowing!

**THEME: **This is an AU story that I started writing agessssss ago! It involves all of the Charmed characters in their past lives, and was inspired entirely by the lyrics of Miss Saigon...so it's kind of a crossover fic as well. The pictures and a lot of the situations are also from Miss Saigon.

**SUMMARY: **100 years after the Salam witch hunt, chaos strikes again!! The characters we know and love are there to save the day...or die...or both...I might rewrite this summary sometime when I am not buzzing on Red bull!!  
_ Take Two!: Beautiful wiccan Piper is orphaned at 17 during an epic war of humans vs. magicks. With all magical beings fighting a losing battle, Piper struggles to survive in a time of hatred and descrimination. She believes, deep down that she alone has a destiny that could save her people. But with every written prophesy saying otherwise, is Piper's belief, and her trust in the broken fighters she meets along the way enough for her to survive Witch Hunt II?? Past life fic!! _

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I miss Prue! That's about it, hah hah! Peace! xx

**RATING: **TLNOTW explores a lot of adult themes and contains pretty bad-ish language. If I were younger than 13 and read this, I would probably be disturbed...so if you are nice, young or innocent, please don't read anymore. Otherwise...welcome to the last night of the world...eh eh eh!!****

**_..._**

_**There was a time when the prophesised **__**'**__**Charmed Ones**__**'**__** promised the wiccan world it**__**'**__**s only hope of salvation.  
A time of tragedy. Where not even passion or hope would prevail.  
It was a time never told.**_

**Where the only demons were man.  
**

In a realm different to our own_..._

It was 1705 - exactly 13 years after the infamous Salam Witch Trials - when the terror was reborn. Commander Victor Wilde was sworn in as Sergeant Major of the American Armed Forces, with an unusual agenda in mind: To once again spread fear of witches over the land. Wiccans who had fled the damned town of Salam 13 years earlier, were attacked and exiled by neighbouring civilians and forced to return to their old town for the support of fellow witches. Unsatisfied and afraid, mortals continued to publicly hunt and destroy all witches. Pagans lived in fear for their lives. A magical allegiance was formed by all immortals to protect those witches in danger, and to win back their homes and freedom. But a stronger allegiance was being formed over the world, and mortal men & woman of every age and race, flocked to join the American WH Armed Forces. With Salam destined to fall, magical beings were forced to seek out reinforcements from a different realm. Mortals from the armed forces in a future time were called in to fight alongside the wiccans. Disguised as WH soldiers, these mortal rebels were able to successfully deter many who sort to harm witches. However, with the mortal side growing in numbers everyday, it seemed that the destiny of Salam was indeed to fall. Doomed Wiccans prayed that they would escape to the ideal realm of the rebels, where mortals and witches lived as one.  
Where Magicks didn't have to feel shame.

Dubbed WHII (witch hunt two), the great war drew to an end, and the semi-deserted town where all nightmares had begun would become the final great battlefield.

**  
And so the story really begins;  
****  
At the end.  
**


	2. Backstage

**_The Last Night Of The World_**

_"_Get your asses on stage, I'm raising cash tonight!"

Piper Halliwell jumped. It wasn't because she hadn't expected the rough man in front of her to speak, nor the fact that his voice could have woken all the sleeping witches in Salam. Piper would have jumped even if he had whispered. She was terrified. Her stomach was coiled and an intense shame had crawled its way up the back of her throat.

"Take a look outside, my little witches." Her new boss spoke again in his bellowing voice. His name was Darryl Morris and he owned the only after hours club in town designed specifically to service the rebels, '_Dreamland'_.

Piper clawed at her arms to prevent herself from freezing the room in fright. She had been asked to take off her dress twenty minutes earlier and prayed her boss wouldn't notice that she hadn't. Though even without her dress, Piper believed she would still be wearing more clothes than the ten women sharing her dressing room.

"The joint is packed, just like the old days!" Darryl smirked with greed. He planned to use the wiccan women in any way, so that he could earn as much money as he possibly could from the rebels in his club. After all, it was probably his last chance to raise enough money for a pass out of the realm.

"They say Salam will fall in less than a week. Tonight, you will all hook up with a WH rebel. Do what you can to get him on side, it may be your only ticket out of this realm. Unless of course, you can manage to score a pass from the embassy, in which case I will be the first to hear about it. Either way, tonight we'll bleed the compassionate bastards…"

It was probably the most compassion he had shown in his life.

Piper's mind continued to churn with pointless thought so that she could block out the screaming voice of her conscience. She watched as one of the women – the one wearing the least clothing - spoke defiantly to her boss.

"We'll never get out of here. Everyday more rebels disappear and we've been screwing the same few who are still in town for months. Let's face it. Short of hooking up with one of the few female rebels, you'll never get out of here. And neither will we." The woman's dark curls sunk into her head, as if too weary to bounce. Piper sensed the discouraged wiccan had once been beautiful, but nonchalance and repression had corroded that away. Her features were tired and used.

Darryl glared at the woman. "Just shut up and get your hotpants on," he spat, "or tonight may be your last screw!" He suddenly changed his tone. "You're all in luck. Now hear me out, I have inside word that the last of the rebels will ALL be in Salam tonight."

The scantily clothed women responded excitedly.

"I will be holding a raffle," he continued. "Ten bucks a ticket, and the winners each get one of you. I'll take 60 of the profits and divide the rest among yourselves."

"What makes you think any of the rebels will be up for it? Tomorrow could be the falling of Salam." The defiant woman spoke again, the intensity of her pout radiating her scepticism.

Darryl scoffed. "It's human nature. Think about it, Fee-Fee. What man would refuse the chance to get both smashed and laid on the last night of the world? This is their last chance here and they know it. I'll have them paying more for just another slut. We'll pick 'em clean, that's what this raffle is about."

"Yes sir!" The woman chanted obediently.

Darryl scoffed again. Then he placed his calloused hands on Piper. "I found this new girl, from the country...'untouched' she claims. Get her dressed!"

"Untouched," the women snickered, peering at Piper through critical eyes. Darryl smirked. "Legs unparted, parts uncharted..."  
And then he was gone.

Piper watched the defiant woman as she pulled on her hotpants and darkened her eyeliner. She caught Piper's eye in the mirror and turned, deliberately. She then reached for a leather lace-up bikini and approached Piper. She spoke in a husky voice. "Just drop the virgin act, alright? The rebels will see right through you. You can call me Phoebe."

Piper wanted to be sick. She was 17 years old and hadn't so much as seen a man naked.

"Why do you do this?" Piper asked in a shaky voice. She allowed Phoebe to circle her and slowly undo her zip to below the waist. Phoebe contemplated the question and paused for a second. "You really are new at this, aren't you?" Her voice wasn't kind, but Piper could sense the smallest hint of empathy in the woman. She shivered, despite the sticky atmosphere, as Phoebe lifted the dress over her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. Suddenly she could feel the women studying her body.

"What are they like?" Piper asked, stumbling away from Phoebe before she could violate her any further. She picked up her dress and clutched it to her chest.

"Who the rebels?" Phoebe asked in disgust. "Come, have a look, princess." She slid out the door. Piper hesitantly followed her toward the stage, not letting go of her dress. She caught up to Phoebe and gasped in shock at the boisterous crowd gathered on the other side of the curtain. Men were drunk already, yelling over the crowd for "slits" and "whores".

"There's so many of them!" Piper's voice caught in her throat.

"Yes, so many men, so little time. If only these nights lasted for all eternity. I want them all..." Piper couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. She cringed at the thought.

Phoebe sighed, suddenly appearing twice as old and rough as she had before. "I know there's nothing in their hearts, but that doesn't stop me from needing them. Every time I take one in my arms, I close my eyes and picture the same thing. Not a strong rebel embracing me, but a ticket out of this nightmare."

Piper spoke in a whisper. "Do you really think there's no hope of escape?"

Phoebe's reply was silence, her expression unreadable. Piper stuttered, "B-b-because, I don't – I just don't think..." she couldn't think how to continue.

"B-before I came here I had no idea of the rebel's realm. Wh-when my parents were killed by the Witch Hunters, I started having a dream. The same dream every night of a world that's far away, where life is not unkind. There is a strong man who'll fight for me, but never kill. He keeps us safe all day, so that no one can come at night to blow the dream away. I want to find my dream more than anything, Phoebe. But I can survive here. I already have. My parents were the most powerful Magicks in my village. I'm stronger than most mortals think. I -"

"That's nice honey, but you're here now, okay. You're selling your body and your soul to dirty, drunk men. You may be strong now, but don't try to tell me that you will survive this. Your mind won't survive this. Your heart..." Phoebe frowned. "Your heart will become stone, Piper. Your dreams are all you'll ever know. But you have to understand that's all they'll ever be. Just dreams."

"No. You're wrong." Piper spoke with certainty. Phoebe simply shook her head, not having the energy or patience to argue with the new girl. "Okay, princess."

Phoebe took one last look at the rebels before turning to return to the dressing room with Piper in tow. She chuckled, "They swear like men, but they screw like boys." Piper looked fearfully into the older woman's eyes. Suddenly feeling unnerved, Phoebe cleared her throat. "Put your dress back on," she ordered. "If you're afraid, you shouldn't be here."

"I need the money!" Piper protested, closing her eyes tightly and discarding the material covering her body. Phoebe shook her head. "Don't we all..." she spoke with regret. She bent over to retrieve Piper's garment from the floor. "Wear the dress." she ordered again. "Play sweet. Lower your eyelids and act innocent. These men will pay the moon to get fresh meat. You never know, after tonight you may be crowned the Princess of Dreamland, new girl. Show them what you've got. Or what you haven't got."

Piper held back the tears in her eyes as Phoebe walked away. Her body trembled as she stepped into her dress and fumbled with the zip. "I will not cry," she whispered furiously to herself. "I won't think, I'll just do my dance. When I make love it won't be me. If they hurt me...I'll just close my eyes, and picture the freedom I will buy with their money. They can do what they want."

She thought she was crying, but when Piper wiped her cheeks there were no tears. Through her strong words, the girl's heart ached.

She would not sleep on this night.

**Author's note: **Thanks heaps for making it this far!! Please review! I love reviews...(grins)... I'll be posting more when I get my ass into gear.  
(That's my usual story)  
CHEERS!


	3. Don't Ask we ain't gonna tell

Orange lights glowed through the smoky club as the sun shone through mist at dawn. Boisterous men spoke louder than war cry. They whistled, stomped, and slapped each other's back, noticeably eyeing off whores for the ideal fuck. The club smelled of sweaty animals, stale cigarette, beer, vomit and weed. Yet Private Prudence Wilde returned every day to tend the bar, and every night to join her fellow rebels in an endless toast. No one knew exactly what they were drinking to, as long as it allowed them to forget where they were for one night. And when the mornings came- with blinding sun, putrid firearm residue, empty stomachs, and battle command that crashed through pounding heads- the men could boast of the slits they screwed the night before, and joke about bringing them home to meet wives and children in their own realm.

"Hey, isn't there a war going on?" A provocative voice blared over the noise. The club erupted with a chorus of roars. "Don't ask! We sure as fuckin' hell ain't gonna tell!"

_They swear like men, but they screw like boys… _

Prue narrowed her eyes at the sight. Men were transparent as glass. Even a stranger could have sensed the rebels were hardly as jovial as they were acting. The smoke concealed desperate restlessness tinged with foreboding. These were the last, dark days before the falling of Salam, and the soldiers who were fighting and dying unconditionally for a race not their own, all concealed the same, bottled up tension.

Despite loyalties to their troops, no rebel man could honestly say that he had not silently questioned the use of even fighting for this doomed land.

Prue's upbringing had been against wiccans. She knew the magic in this realm was weakened. Far weaker than Prue had seen in her own realm. So Prue would fight for the sake of the Magicks, but simply because she was trained to defend those who could not defend themselves. She didn't really want to be in Salam.

"I'm off duty for the night," she called over the noise. Her supervisor nodded and dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

"Hey I ordered a beer, Wilde!" a young male voice harassed Prue before she could leave. Prue tilted her head and forcefully slid an empty jug along the counter to her fellow rebel. "Then fucking lean over and pour it yourself, Jellett." She smirked, and threw a couple of retarded hand gestures in Private Jellett's direction. He returned the charming display of friendship, before indicating with his head the table her squadron was gathered at.

She hadn't been sitting at the table long before Jellott returned, and promptly kicked her out of "his chair". Prue complied. She didn't expect- or want - any special treatment because of her gender. She had grown up motherless, with six elder brothers and her best friend, Leo Young. All of the "look after the weaker sex" and "never hit a girl" rules had been re-written for Prue's life. She was accustomed to being treated as an equal and didn't want it any other way.

"Look at the hooters on that one, mate!" A male voice bellowed. Prue coughed into her beer as the private beside her aimed a friendly slap too close to the middle of her back. She turned slowly to pull a deceptive smile that was dripping with fake annoyance. He chuckled guiltily, "Sorry mate."

Prue peered over her shoulder subtly to look at the woman her 'mate' was referring to. It wasn't that she didn't watch the women; more that she didn't want to appear too interested. She had met a lot of the dancers through her bartending, but didn't recognise the one who had slipped out of her bikini top. A lot of witches with nowhere else to turn would come and go from the job, but they always seemed to be the same. All with an air of confidence and desperately oozing sex appeal. Prue pitied the women, despite her dislike of most of them.

There was one woman that caught her eye. She was younger than the others, and wearing a dress. Prue watched curiously as the shy woman danced at the back of the stage. She was beautiful, and not as rough looking as the rest of them. Like most young witches, the young woman radiated naivety and innocent longing, something that would only get her hurt in the line of work she was currently pursuing. Prue shrugged and turned away from the stage again. "Yeah, they're alright."

The drunk private laughed loudly. "You're a champion Prue," he grinned, once again slapping her on the back, and returning his attention to the topless dancer.

Prue decided to turn her attention across the table to Private Jellett. He was watching one of the women exclusively, and casually taking a drag from a potent looking joint. Finally capturing the woman's attention, Jellett cocked his head subtly in an invitation, blowing smoke out of his nostrils. The woman, who Prue knew as Phoebe Van Tranh or 'Fee Fee', continued her eye contact with Aaron Jellett and slinked her way through the crowd towards him. After reaching them, she stepped onto the edge of Prue's chair and hoisted herself up onto the table, draping her legs deliberately over Prue in the process. Fee Fee smiled slimily and posed provocatively before them.

_"See my bikini, it's just the right size."_ The woman sang as she ran her fingers sensually along the thin lycra. Private Jellett inhaled too deeply in excitement and glowed a deep shade of red as he struggled to hold back his coughing and spluttering.

_"And don't you enjoy how it rides up her thighs?"_ Prue mocked the woman with a sing-song voice of her own. Mirosh smirked at his friend, before sneaking a peak at the bikini from where Prue was sitting. Squatting, with legs either side of Jellett, Fee-Fee tossed a feral glare over her shoulder in Prue's direction.

"I can show you my special trophy of war." She continued her efforts toward the men in front of her, pulling Mirosh forward from the back of his neck. "For a rebel I'll show more" she whispered huskily. "You won't get offa the floor."

Suddenly she was all over him. Mirosh wasted no time in savagely capturing the woman's mouth in his own, his hands roaming wildly over her bare skin. Jellett, now obviously able to breathe, leaned in to suck hungrily at Fee-Fee's exposed neck. Around the table, men leaned back in their chairs, cheering and applauding their friend's efforts.

Prue narrowed her eyes in disgust, and grated her chair backwards across the floor. "I need a drink," she smirked, shaking her head and turning to leave. A warm, familiar voice from behind her spoke over the music, "Is it your shout then, Prue?"

"Leo!"

The woman spun around madly to embrace her best friend, almost knocking him to the ground. "I knew you would come tonight, Private Young!" She grinned.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, would we Graham?" Leo referred to the tall woman beside him. Riley Graham, Prue, and Leo Young worked together as part of an elite squad of rebels situated just outside the north border of town. That was, until Prue was transferred out of the squadron to her current post in Salam.

"Hey Riley," Prue squinted through the smoke and grinned a toothy grin. The women shook hands and leaned in for a friendly peck on the cheek.

"God, I've missed you guys," Prue's voice crackled with emotion, although she blamed the smoke inhalation. Leo and Riley smiled sympathetically. Prue suddenly perked up. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink!" She shook her head wildly, "I love this song." Grabbing Leo's hand, she led him to the bar, both singing at the top of their voices.

Riley followed behind, pulling her charcoaled hair back off her face and into a messy ponytail. "They need to make a movie about you two crazy people." She croaked after them. "They'll call it 'The Young and the Wilde do Salam' or some shit like that".

However her comments were drowned out by the crowd, and the three Privates lost themselves in the noise and atmosphere of Dreamland.


	4. Cheap Souveniers

"Private Young, Private Wilde...you've come to win my raffle." Darryl's booming voice projected over the bar without him having to strain.

Leo watched out of the corner of his eye as Prue pulled a face, choosing to ignore whatever her boss was implying. "I'm gonna get my friend laid as a last souveneir." She spoke just as loudly in return. Leo almost dropped his beer in shock. "What? No."

But Prue and Darryl continued their negotiations over the bar.

"Hey!" Leo interrupted them roughly. "I love you Prudence, but you are so full of bullshit."

"I'm going to buy you a girl," her eyes crinkled mischievously. Leo glared. "Give up," he demanded. But he recognised her expression all to well. She wasn't going to leave him be.

"You can buy me another beer," he attempted to compromise weakly. Leo was feeling suddenly nervous. He looked around for Riley to break the tension and talk some sense into his stubborn best friend. Riley was approaching at half the pace of a constipated snail, inhaling her joint like there was no tomorrow.

_No tomorrow._

Leo shuddered at the thought, but he couldn't push it from his mind. Fortunately Darryl quickly ended his conversation with Prue, and climbed on top of the bar screaming "IT'S SHOWTIME" over the noise. The club almost drowned in cheers.

"The girls are hotter than hell tonight, Private Young!" A disturbingly sober rebel approached them from behind. Leo wanted to groan at the single-topic conversations his fellow rebels were having. He wanted to scream at them all to wake up! This could be the last night of their lives. Weren't they afraid? Was he the only one who felt so lost here? Nothing was making sense to him. Nothing felt real. And he hadn't taken any drugs.

"You in the raffle?" the fat-faced rebel continued. He reeked of B.O. "I have four tickets already, Young. You'd better move your ass if you want some action tonight."

"Yeah..." Leo lied, pitying any poor girl who became the property of this foul smelling Private.

"Good luck then." He turned and wondered off, addressing Riley as she brushed past him on her way to her friends. "Riley Graham, shit, the tension is unbearable!"

Riley rubbed her temples. "Not to mention the smell..."

"Ho-ney," Prue smiled sympathetically and patted her friend on the head. "You okay?"

But Riley looked anything but okay. She crinkled her face as it turned a seedy shade of 'too much weed in one hour'.

"No, actually, I think I'm going to puke. I might see if I can find a comfortable gutter to crawl into and die."

Leo chuckled and rubbed her back. "You go too hard, Riley Graham. Try inhaling some oxygen, it helps at times."

Prue removed the remaining joint from Riley's mouth, and brought it to her own lips, inhaling softly. She then offered it to Leo, and when he declined, dropped it into the deserted beer beside her and exhaled a stream of smoke. "You heading off, babe?"

"Mmm..." the groan rumbled from deep inside Riley's throat. She raised her hand in 'goodbye' and walked towards the door gripping every chair on her way.

Leo watched to make sure she made it out into the fresh air safely. He caught Prue grinning at him.

"Is she something you like, Leo?" Prue wrapped a friendly arm around his waist. He replied with a shrug. "Hum. Maybe. Though I can't figure out if she's more interested in me or the chicks on stage." Prue chucked at his honesty. They rarely hid anything from each other. "Yeah, I'm not sure you're her type." She muttered cheekily.

Leo loved Prue when she looked at him like this. When her lips squeezed together perfectly at the corners and her eyes crinkled and shone. He thought about how much he missed working with Prue. They had shared everything with each other growing up. Just hearing her voice helped to lift his depression.

"And what about you, Prudence?" he asked curiously, eyebrows raised.

"What ABOUT me, dickhead? I'm engaged." She pulled away. And she was engaged. Her highschool sweetheart, Andy, had proposed to Prue on her 20th birthday, just after she was drafted to fight in Salam. "If you can't have Riley, you'll just have to settle for one of them," Prue indicated towards the women on the stage.

Leo's face turned serious.

"I don't know what's wrong with me Prue. I used to love getting stoned and waking up with some whore beside me." His distressed voice dissipated into the smoke.

Prue's eyebrows were raised in a continuous show of amusement. "Buuut..." she urged him on.

"But it's not fun anymore! Maybe I'm getting old. Maybe I'm dead. Maybe I'm-"

"Maybe you're senile." Prue joked with mock concern. She grinned to herself.

"Fuck off." Leo sulked.

"U.S. rrrebels! Lets forget the threat, forget the war. Tonight we will all get along! It's time for a little wiccan thank you present. From us to you.– I present the pride, the joy, of all of Salam. The one and only, Miss Fee Fee Van Tranh!!"

Leo slouched grumpily at the bar, looking into his beer.

"Grrreat." Prue rolled her eyes, annoyed at both her friend and at her least favourite dancer on the stage. She turned to watch Phoebe's provocative song.

_"If I'm your pinup, I'll melt all your brass;  
Stuck on your wall with a pin in my ass.  
If you get me, we will travel first class;  
I'll show you- we will make magic together!"_

Darryl cleared his throat and shooed Phoebe off the stage.

"Is it a week or a day or an hour you've got? Nobody knows. Tonight might be your last shot! We have a special treat for all you gentlemen, and Prudence."

The crowd roared and Darryl directed a slimy wink in Prue's direction. The woman pulled a disgusted face and turned her back to the stage, mimicking Leo's previous posture. "Shit head," she growled. Leo snorted with delight into his beer.

"New from the country, untouched! Legs unparted, parts uncharted." The crowd rose from their seats howling as Darryl introduced the shy woman Prue had noticed earlier.

"I don't, I d-don't know what to do…" the girl almost cried.

Darryl grabbed her roughly. "Don't screw with me little bitch. SING!"

Leo turned his head slowly. The woman on stage caused his breath to catch in his throat. She radiated the most intense beauty and sadness he had ever witnessed. His eyes blinked rapidly, stinging with smoke, yet trying to catch every glorious movement the young Wiccan made. And when she opened her mouth to improvise the song, his ears almost burst with her passionate splendour. His world stopped. He forgot that he may not survive another night. Suddenly there was something real about Salam. And she stood nervously in front of him, baring her heart to these wild, dirty men.

_"I'm 17 and I'm new here today  
The village I come from seems so far away  
All of the girls know much more what to say  
But I know...  
__I have a heart like the sea  
A million dreams soar in me."_

He had heard of people falling in love suddenly, but she never thought it would feel so heart wrenching. Leo loved the woman on stage. He loved her. He loved...he didn't know her name.

"Prue!" He shouted urgently, shocking himself at the intensity of his longing. His best friend turned her head, concerned as he gripped her arm with chilled hands.

"What?" she croaked.

"Good Jesus Christ Prue, who is SHE?!"

**AUTHORS NOTE: Heeeee!! Thanks so much for reading! More comin' soon. :-D **


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